At Your Service
by Sue-Drae
Summary: In the United States, things are done a little differently. Without Aurors, it's up to the Hit Wizards to be the elite and they take their job very seriously. With their reputation of being the elite of the elite, it's no surprise that the British Ministry of Magic was willing to pay top coin to have the best and brightest come over to protect the Boy Who Lived. OC
1. Prologue

"Budge over, Blondie."

I looked up at the gruff order, resigned to my much-disliked nickname. For Merlin's sake, I wasn't even a natural blonde! It had been Smith's fault- he should have known better than to experiment with combining volatile potions and charms in a public office space. Had he been the one to suffer for it, though? Of course not. I was the poor sap that had to walk around the office with platinum locks.

"What for, Lark?" I snipped back at my superior. Lark's real name was Larsson but no one called him that. He took his name from his animagus form, a little mottled brown songbird. His animagus form wasn't good for much in our line of work but he was occasionally pulled out for recon.

Lark wasn't too remarkable a man, something that made him a bit more valuable in the force. His dark brown hair was unremarkable, his dark brown eyes almost plain behind his undecorated glasses; he wasn't too attractive but not ugly. He was neither short nor tall. He was, in a word, average. An average target seemed like a weaker target, though, and Lark was particularly vicious to anyone who underestimated him. That tendency to violence let him rise through the ranks quickly, making him the second or third youngest Head in decades at the ripe age of 34.

Instead of answering me, Lark looped an arm under my ankles and hefted my feet off of the other half of the couch I'd been occupying. As I repositioned my feet onto the stout and water-ringed coffee table, Lark fell into place beside me and began shuffling through the papers in his ever present messenger bag.

"I've got something... You've been requested." The way he drew out the last word made me certain that he wasn't fond of the request. After a few moments of silence broken only by the rustling papers, Lark brandished a manilla folder in my face. "For you."

I grasped it and narrowed my eyes when he didn't immediately let go. Scowling, I wrestled the file from him. I flipped it open with a flick of my wrist and a small photograph fell out, landing face down on the floor.

My hand froze as I reached out to pick the picture up, noticing that Harry James Potter was written on the back of the square of paper. Even in the United States, Harry Potter was a famous name. While he was more famous for his general survival of the killing curse, his name could still be heard in Modern Era History of Magic and Advanced Defensive Spellwork classes.

I recovered, taking the picture in hand and flipping it over to reveal a boy's face. He was probably ten or eleven with bright green eyes and messy dark hair. The hair was almost long enough that I couldn't see the faint scar etched onto his forehead, but not quite.

Putting the picture to the side, I returned my attention to the file itself.

"Mission duration?" I asked, fearing the worst. Lark scowled.

"The whole ride."

"I'm being shipped out for seven years?" I asked, appalled. While there wasn't any sort of rule against such a long mission duration, even the longest missions usually ran under six months. The longest missions I'd ever personally taken had only been four months long.

"It's more than just a protection job, Blondie. Read it."

There was a few minutes of silence as the scope of what I was being hired out to do washed over me. I wasn't just being babysitting some kid. I was being totally uprooted.

"How much is the mission cost?" I wanted to know. I wanted to know what sort of price the office was putting on something like this.

I knew when I first decided that I wanted to be a Hit Wizard that what I wanted wouldn't mean too much. I knew that the odds of me dying in the line of duty were very high. But I had never thought that I'd have to live with the consequences.

Lark grimaced. We weren't supposed to know what the client was giving the office. The system had been crippled eighty-something years ago when an op felt he wasn't getting a reasonable cut of the profits. In a field where each operative was trained so thoroughly, even one AWOL worker could wreck havoc with ease.

"Astronomical."

"How. High?" I asked tightly. Lark lowered his eyes.

"Fourteen thousand for each month of service."

"Dollars?"

"Galleons," Lark corrected.

Fourteen thousand galleons a month. Ten months of service in a year. Seven years of service.

They were paying the office nine hundred and eighty thousand galleons for the mission!

"Your cut is being negotiated by the Council sometime this week. If this was just a protection job, it'd be easy but your task has... facets."

"You know I don't care too much about that; but I was requested? By who?"

"The headmaster himself. Seems he heard about you through the grapevine. You'd be offered this even if you weren't requested. You're the only one in the office even qualified for the job."

"Then I don't have much of a choice, do I?" I grumbled half-heartedly. When someone was requested for a mission, it was an unspoken rule that they took it or they left the force. An unreliable op isn't something the Hit Wizards had the time or energy to flush out. It was our job to deal with the rest of the country's- and occasionally a few other countries'- messes; we didn't have time to micromanage within our own organization.

Lark looked at me with a calculating light in his eyes.

"Can I give you advice?"

"You always do," I grumbled.

"Take the job. Dumbledore made it very clear that this mission needs doing. If you can't do it, I need to know ASAP. If, after a month or two, you can't handle it, I can start grooming someone to take over. But this needs to get started."

I sighed, mulling things over.

In retrospect, I probably should have handed over my badge then and there. I worked hard to get to where I was; all of the Hit Wizards did. The Magical Congress of the United States of America didn't work like Great Britain or other countries, where the kids were babied and coddled through their education. We started earlier, around age eight, and everyone roughly decided what they wanted to do with their life after six years of primary school. At that point, they'd prepare for four years of secondary, which was structured more like Muggle universities.

Becoming a Hit Wizard was arguably the hardest career path to take. The force only took the best of the best, trained thoroughly so that its operatives could work efficiently in almost any scenario. If an operative reached retiring age- usually in mid-thirties due to the high stress nature of the job- they usually picked their favorite aspect of their job and went with that. Some went in the less dangerous private sector of protection, others became master healers, others still pursued a career in education and passed on what they learned to the next generations.

I was only twenty-nine but this was a job that would end my career. After seven years in the relative safety of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, I wouldn't be fit for service anymore. This assignment, if I took it, would be my last.


	2. Chapter 1

Of course I had to take the damn assignment.

Breaking my life down took less time than I wanted to admit. I had few friends outside of the force- the demands of the job made it hard to keep in touch with anyone- and everyone on the force understood my responsibilities and made half-hearted promises to stay in touch over the next few years. There was just me and my familiar at home-a german shepherd who didn't know how to keep out of trouble. I didn't have much extra fluff decorating my house to pack up. Aside from my clothes and my library, I only had a couple dozen mementos from my favorite or least favorite missions- things that I wouldn't leave behind for anything.

With everything I owned shrunk down or transfigured so that it fit into a small duffle bag and Milo trotting along at my heels, I felt more than a little hollow as I stepped into the New York division of the MACUSA, constructed right under Via Wyrda in the heart of Central Park. With space so limited on Manhattan, there was nowhere to go but down if we wanted to remain hidden from the Muggles.

When I stepped through the boundary line, I could spot a few other people already at the reception counter and more arriving through the fireplaces located at the north end or Apparating in right behind me.

The lobby itself was a medium sized room with a domed roof that, through a glass covered oculus, let light hit the black and white marble floor. Charmed windows let in artificial sunlight and, if you were at the right angle, gave views of Central Park at its best.

In front of me was a long counter that stretched across much of the room, leaving enough space on either side for two sets of elevator doors, both closed and shining ever so slightly in the yellowish light. On the counter were several small baskets, inviting me to step forward.

I walked up to the unstaffed reception desk and grabbed a purpose card from the rightmost basket on the counter and a pen from the other, stepping out of the way so that the others could get their own cards.

 _Visitor Name:_ _ **Lorelei Bingley, Milo (familiar)**_

 _Purpose of Visit:_ _ **Catching Portkey 79115112 to British Ministry of Magic**_

 _To be Noted:_ _ **Papers to be signed by British Ministry officials with transfer of residence from New York City, New York, United States of America to London, Greater London, England, United Kingdom.**_

Placing the pen back down, I waited for just a few seconds. The writing on the purpose card faded to nothing and, before my eyes, new words appeared on the card.

 _Thank you,_ _ **Lorelei Bingley**_ _and_ _ **Milo (familiar)**_ _, for visiting the_ _ **New York**_ _Branch of the Magical Congress of the United States of America. Your request has been processed. Please proceed to Level Five: Department of Magical Transportation using this purpose card in the elevator._ _ **Portkey 79115112**_ _will be leaving from the Portkey Office at 08:45 (EST) to arrive in_ _ **Portkey Office, Level Six: Department of Magical Transportation, British Ministry of Magic**_ _. Note that all international travels via portkeys required wand verification in order to commence. Thank you and have a nice day._

An elevator off to my left dinged as it opened. Milo and I made my way to it and slipped my purpose card into a slot next to the doors. Once the paper had fallen through completely, the doors closed and we began a swift descent downwards. Once we reached _Level Five: Department of Magical Transportation_ , Milo and I stepped into the organized chaos of an international portkey office.

I would miss the American way of doing things, even with things as simple as international travel. Our portkeys were all created from Muggle snow globes that succinctly depicted their location. Already sitting on the main desk, I could see, was a larger snow globe that bore a tiny Big Ben and a London Eye over the river Thames within its white-flecked liquid. The office itself was warmly decorated with comfortable furniture and, while it was still modern and efficient, it wasn't offensively utilitarian. There was a single wide aisle going down the length of the room leading to the main desk. At this desk was the primary attendant, whose job it was to perform the wand verification and ensure that the portkey was activated properly. A door just behind the desk led, to my knowledge, into a hallway that led to the private offices of the other members of the portkey office and store rooms for both used and unused portkeys. A set of cubbies lined the back wall, with each space occupied by the snow globes that would be in service today.

"Good morning," I greeted the attendant who looked as if she needed another cup of coffee. "Lorelei Bingley and Milo, taking Portkey 79115112 to the British Ministry of Magic."

The attendant opened a drawer in her desk which opened much further than the desk's dimensions should have allowed and pulled out a file under the portkey number. She rifled through its pages for a few seconds.

"Got it," she responded victoriously, pulling out a single sheet. She glanced through it before looking up at me. "Lorelei Bingley. May I have your wand?"

I handed it over for the wand weighing, watching as she placed it on the brass scales with practiced ease. After a few moments of teetering back and forth, the wand became perfectly balanced on the scales and a small slip of paper poked out of the instrument's base. She snatched it up, reading it aloud. "Thirteen and a quarter inches, rowan, re'em tail hair. It has been in use for twenty-one years, correct?"

"Very good. Are you aware of the appropriate procedures to take regarding your familiar?" she asked, nodding down at Milo. I answered that I did and she gave a relieved sort of smile. "Good. Your portkey leaves in thirteen minutes. Feel free to take a seat in the meantime."

As I moved to take a seat, several people separated themselves from the crowd sitting around the office, all bustling towards the woman as she announced the departure of the portkey going to Shanghai. The snow that had been drifting lazily around the Yuyuan Gardens began to swirl almost dangerously, forming a tiny and glittering tornado amongst the Ming and Qing dynasty pavilions to announce the nearing activation of the portkey.

After ten minutes- during which the groups heading to Rome and then San Francisco disappeared- I was called back to the desk for my portkey. Milo and I were the only ones taking this portkey, making things easier for my familiar. It was trickier for familiars to take portkeys, especially larger ones like Milo, but we'd traveled enough that I'd invested in a sort of travel harness that would keep him firmly bound to me during the trip.

"The portkey will activate in precisely... Thirty seconds. If you would take hold of the snow globe. Please take care to not drop it..." I gripped the snow globe carefully, my other hand tightening around Milo's harness. "Yes, good. Please maintain a firm grip on the portkey for the duration of the entire trip. Early release could result in nausea to severe injury and, though unlikely, death. Once landed, please clear the destination zone as quickly as possible to prevent traffic build up. Thank you for traveling via the MACUSA Portkey Office. Have a great day."

I felt a tugging sensation just behind my navel and gripped onto both my belongings and the snow globe that I had three fingers wrapped around just a little tighter. Though I expected it, my stomach turned as I felt myself twisted and pulled along by the portkey. Bending my knees carefully, I landed on my feet, leaning forward to balance myself with a cough. Milo, beside me, gave a soft whine of discomfort, shaking himself free from my grip.

"Oh, don't be a baby," I said with a teasing smirk as an automated voice welcomed us to the British Ministry of Magic.

* * *

I didn't like the British Ministry at all. Everything was unnecessarily large or refined. It was as if no one realized that this was a government building and, as such, the first concern should be the government. Even within the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, where I was to first report to, everything was designed to impress or awe instead of enable the workers to do their jobs.

Everything here was backwards. The laws were created by pureblood supremacists and enforced by their sycophants. There was a faint illusion of equality but it was hardly paper-thick. Non-human magical beings were openly oppressed and no one seemed to take notice.

There were a handful of exceptions, and people who seemed to know how to take their duties seriously. Luckily, the Head of the DMLE, Madam Amelia Bones, seemed to have a good head on her shoulders. Her lackeys, though, held less promise. Word very quickly spread how an American Hit Wizard was hanging around the offices and men and women who were supposed to be _professionals_ abandoned their posts to gawk and faun at me. When it was announced that the Headmaster of Hogwarts- the man who'd requested me for the mission- would be coming to pick me up and bring me to the school before the end of my first day in Great Britain, I was beyond pleased. For better or worse, though, Dumbledore wouldn't be coming to get me until the evening, leaving me with the better part of the afternoon to explore the Ministry.

"Kinglsey, right?" I asked, leaning over a cubicle wall to face my latest questioning victim. I was determined to talk to one person in as many divisions as possible and the Aurors, as the branch most like the Hit Wizards, seemed most familiar.

The dark skinned Auror looked up at me, quite easily hiding his slight start at my sudden appearance.

"Yes? Can I help you?" he asked in a rich baritone. I grinned at him.

"Hope so. Name's Lore Bingley. I'm here on personal request of Dumbledore and as a show of good faith from the MACUSA. Do you understand what I'm saying?" I asked sweetly. The man's lip quirked ever so slightly into a grimace. It was subtle, but he definitely understood what I was saying: I was a nosy American and he would have to deal with me until my curiosity was satisfied. Poor bloke.

* * *

Headmaster Albus Dumbledore was quite as I pictured him from the colorful depictions I'd received from various Ministry employees. Many spoke of their golden pseudo-leader with perfect reverence and, for the most part, it seemed genuine. Somehow, the old man who'd won against Grindelwald and orchestrated most of the victory against Voldemort had weaseled his way into the hearts of the masses. Only the disgruntled supremacists, whom he'd soundly defeated in the previous war, seemed less than pleased with the benevolent headmaster.

"You're just in time, as well," Dumbledore was telling me as he lead me to the Ministry's Atrium. "Prior to each school year, the staff get together to go over anything that was concerning with regards to the students and exchange ideas of how to improve upon what we've already done and implement new ideas."

"And let me guess: the meeting is today, right?" I asked, silently dreading that I wouldn't have any time to prepare. That wouldn't make my job impossible, but it made a great deal harder if I had little to no time to acquaint myself with the grounds or the staff before presenting my plans. If Harry Potter was supposed to be under my protection for the next seven years, I wanted to do things correctly from year one.

"It is in two weeks' time. I think that should give you enough time to get settled at the school and acquaint yourself with the professors and the grounds," he said pleasantly.

"Wonderful," I said with all earnesty. The sooner I was on the ground, the sooner I could start adapting the changes necessary.

* * *

My first impression of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry was that it was a very large, very imposing, and very beautiful place. After arriving at the school via side-along apparation, since I could not apparate into the grounds by myself thanks to the wards protecting the school, I was briefly led around the castle and its immediate exterior by the headmaster. Dumbledore never seemed at a loss for random facts about each tree or stone that went into the making of Hogwarts' grounds nor did he seem to run out of lemon drops, a Muggle candy he had graciously shared with me as I was given the tour.

"Here is where the Keeper of the Keys and Grounds lives but I do believe that he's gone to Diagon Alley to prepare for the new year," Dumbledore commented, bringing my attention to a cozy hut surrounded by delicate wildflowers and grasses. "The forest beyond there is known best as the Forbidden Forest for a variety of reasons. Mainly, though, it is so that the students don't stumble in and disrespect the centaurs living within."

"That's probably for the best," I chuckled. "I actually had a centaur as an instructor for a class on Astronomy and I'm sure that, if he was any less afraid that the blood would stain the grass, he would have run us all through with the next classroom's fencing foils."

"You had an instructor that was a centaur? Did his herd not object?" The old man sounded truly intrigued and, seeing no harm in the truth, I bobbed my head in a short nod.

"Heavily. He was nearly cast out when he initially took the position. As it was, he stopped teaching three years after my class. Last I heard from him, his herd was attempting to domesticate the Re'em herd in Yellowstone."

"Fascinating," Dumbledore noted, nodding his head before glancing up at the sky. "Goodness, it's getting late. Dinner should be starting soon. If you'd come with me, I can show you to the Great Hall and introduce you to the other teachers and, perhaps most importantly, appreciate the house elves' culinary expertise."

"Sounds like a plan," I agreed, nodding in the general direction of the castle. The entire way back, I allowed my thoughts to wander back to what I'd been told of the various professors. From what I'd heard of the dour and short-tempered spy-turned-Potions Master to the part-goblin former dueling champion, it would be an interesting bunch to be certain.

Instead of taking me into the Great Hall, Dumbledore took me to an adjacent room. Smiling, he explained that the hall was rather empty when devoid of students so, during the summer season, the teachers still at the school would take their meals together in a smaller, more comfortable setting.

In the antechamber of the Great Hall, the centerpiece of the room was a large stone hearth that provided both warmth and light for the entire room. A highly polished table stretched down the length of the room, around which sat sixteen chairs. Many of the seats were already claimed by the oddest assortment of witches and wizards I'd seen in years- the staff of Hogwarts.

"Ah, Albus, there you are," a warm voice greeted. I turned to see a witch heading towards us, a smile on her face. She was rather short with messy grey hair that, as I studied closer, had a number of stray twigs and leaves as residents. "We didn't want to start without you. And you must be Miss Bingley," she said, the smile never wavering from her features. I nodded, trying to figure out where the line between business and pleasure fell on this mission.

"Yes. Please call me Lore. Most of my colleagues do," I replied as casually as I could. The woman beamed at the offer.

"I'm Pomona Sprout, the Herbology professor here," she introduced happily.

"Pomona is also the Head of House for Hufflepuff," Dumbledore added before explaining the house system. It was all a little unnecessary- I'd done my research before coming to the school- but I appreciated the notion.

"I had the pleasure of talking to some of the more recent graduates who've moved on to work at the Ministry. They speak very highly of the school and its professors, but I've noted a bit of a disconnect between the houses. Has the alienation of Slytherin House been exaggerated or should I be wary of a potential conflict?"

The professors rounded together to explain how their school functioned, I became a little more familiar with each teacher. My goal was to be able to name each professor and what class or classes they taught. By the time I had it figured out that Hogwarts ran on a seven core class system, I was nearly at my goal.

"There are a few members of our staff that we are still missing," Minerva, the Deputy Headmistress and Transfiguration professor, added as I began to gain my bearings. "Rolanda Hooch, for example, teaches first years how to fly on a broomstick and referees the inter-house Quidditch matches but, other than that, spends little time at the school. She usually comes a few days before term begins to ensure that the brooms are all in order but doesn't spend much of her free time in the castle. This year's Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher as well, Quirinus Quirrell, isn't here yet. He should be arriving sometime next week but he's travelling from Albania."

"This year's Defense teacher?" I echoed, curious. That issue had cropped up in my seemingly innocent questioning of Ministry employees. There hadn't been a recurring professor in the subject for as long as many could remember.

"The students believe that the Defense Against the Dark Arts position is cursed. We haven't had a stable professor in the subject for decades."

"Thirty-six years, if I'm not mistaken," Dumbledore chimed in helpfully.

"For a curse or jinx to remain so strong for so long must be very direct in its nature, otherwise the magical drain on the caster after all these years and the doubtless distance between the castle grounds and caster would have made it more trouble than it's worth."

"What are you suggesting?" Minerva asked, evidently not seeing the point in beating around the bush.

"I had to study curse-breaking in order to apply to be a Hit Wizard. Simply speaking, the wider or more complicated the parameters of a curse, the more power it requires to sustain itself. If I were to attempt to curse, for example, anyone casting the levitation charm, that would require a massive amount of power in order to be truly effective. At the same time, the magnitude of change I want carried out by the curse alters the amount of power needed to make it work. It would be much simpler for me to make it so that anyone who uses the levitation charm finds that they yawn a bit more often than it would be to cause them to eternally lose their left sock. Conversely, it would be a lot simpler for me to cause only a specific target- a wizard name John that uses the levitation charm on a feather. I'd use less power cursing poor John to lose his sock than I would cursing anyone performing levitation to yawn."

Glancing about to make sure I hadn't lost anyone, I was pleased to see that everyone seemed to be keeping up.

"With the curse on the DADA position, I'm led to think that it must be very specific in its parameters. It can't possibly be on every professor that teaches defense, nor can it be applicable upon other Hogwarts professors since most of you have been teaching here for decades. The curse would have to be tethered to the individual being affected, as well. Perhaps the curse is on the very title of Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, at which point it begins its work at the moment of hire. In that case, the curse could be totally circumvented by simply changing the name of the subject or altering the wording a bit."

"You'd change the name of a centuries old course on a perhaps?" Dumbledore asked with a gleam in his eyes, as if the idea delighted him.

"It does seem a bit easier than tracking down a new defense professor every year, doesn't it?" I responded with a shrug. "My other suggestion would be to dilute the curse's intended targets. Perhaps if there was a joint professorship in the subject, it wouldn't be so potent."

"Fascinating. I regret that we don't have it in the budget to hold a class on the subject. Most curse-breakers need to find specialists or apprenticeships to learn their trade in Great Britain."

"That's a shame... I've noticed that Hogwarts functions on a seven core curriculum with five electives available to third years and up and and additional two available to sixth and seventh years. What sort of precautions have you set aside to manage the flow of student interest as they progress within the system?"


	3. Chapter 2

By the time of the formal meeting of professors, I was more or less familiar with the workings of the school. I'd been provided all of the information I needed for the meeting from past student marks to the school's annual budget and was ready to present my plan to the staff.

"Good morning, Lore," an increasingly familiar voice greeted me. I continued sorting through my papers but glanced around me to smile at the approaching woman.

"Good morning, Minerva." The older woman- and many other of the professors- had insisted upon me referring to her by her given name. "I'm surprised to see you here so early."

"I'm always early to these," she smiled. "I doubt I could stand it if Severus beat me here."

"Well, he does have an advantage in that he lives closer to this room," I commented. Minerva nodded in agreement.

"That he does... So, what have you been working on so diligently? Irma informed me that you've spent much of the past few days in the library poring over numbers and maps."

"You'll see," I said with a conspiratorial smile. And she would. In the past week I'd exchanged a dozen or so owls with various Ministry department heads though I needed the Department of Magical Education's records most often. Finishing the sorting of my papers, I held a folder out to Minerva who accepted it graciously.

Over the next ten minutes, the rest of the staff drifted into the room. Each accepted a folder from me with varying states of interest and awareness. It occurred to me that it was rather early in the morning for a meeting like this.

Five minutes before the meeting was set to begin, Albus Dumbledore arrived last in a flurry of bright robes. After offering each of us a candy- today it was butterbeer toffees- he took his seat, beaming at me as I passed him a folder.

"It is that time again," Dumbledore began, his eyes dancing as if this was the highlight of his year. He and Pomona in particular excelled at making every moment seem significant in that way. "Lore, would you like to begin?"

"Certainly, headmaster," I accepted with a nod. "As you all know by now, I am being stationed at this school for a number of reasons. The protection of the students, chief among them Harry Potter, is only one of my responsibilities. Now, during my education, I was exposed to both Muggle and magical institutions and, as such, part of my duties during my time here is the rejuvenation and possible improvement of Hogwarts. That said, any suggestions I put forth that don't pertain directly to the protection of the school or its grounds are not set in stone by any means. These are my own personal ideas to be implemented or disregarded at the discretion of the whole of the staff.

"Now, I've given you all a folder when you came in. Please open it now... As you can see, the first several pages are my initial assessments of the school in regards to total security, the state of the grounds, the status of all staff, and general information that's mostly derived from the data I've managed to collect.

"I'll talk first on security, as that's my primary reason for even being here. From an outside standpoint, it's easy to tell why Hogwarts is viewed as a fortress. From the formidable force its staff can present to the extensive wards, this castle was designed as a safehaven for magical persons. However, it was created primarily to safeguard students from non-magical attacks or persecution. The curse on the position of the DADA professor is an example of the chink in the armor. In response, I'm suggesting a revisement of the wards on the grounds. I have spoken with Bathsheda and also some of my American contacts and I can arrange for runic wards to be installed at key points around the grounds and the castle itself. Runic wards take time to construct and cure, though, so I also would suggest layering fresh arcane wards overtop the pre-existing wards."

"I'm not a master in warding, but immature arcana wards, no matter how delicately woven, run the risk of destroying the old wards, don't they? Wouldn't it be safer just to leave the old wards as they are until the runic wards have matured?" Charity Burbage asked worriedly.

"If I arranged for anyone but myself to lay fresh wards, I would agree. I was born with a ley link, which has been closely monitored since my first Yule celebration when I was eleven. I've studied natural magic carefully; I'm confident that I can mesh the new wards with the old, and strengthen them both. The old wards may not survive the transformation for long, but it will hold more than long enough for the runic wards to mature. There may be a day or two in which the castle won't be unplottable, but I'll be keeping a close eye on the wards to renew them once they expire. The castle will be safe even in that small lapse, though, thanks to the runic wards."

"What of the price of the runic wards? Those wouldn't be without cost," Minerva pointed out. I nodded, unperturbed.

"The cost will be covered by the mission fee. Logistically speaking, Hogwarts and the Ministry are paying an absurd amount for one witch's services so my office has agreed to reserve a percentage of the pay to absorb any costs suffered during my stay here. It wouldn't be that way if a team had been sent, but this is the way things worked out."

"These are complicated runic wards. I don't know the last time I've seen work so detailed. Who crafted these?" Dumbledore asked, studying the drafted runic wards in the packet.

"I can't claim it. It was a collaboration between one of my colleague's and our office head." Smith had always been clever, even if the man was reckless from time to time. My hair still wasn't back to its natural chestnut color. Pausing for just a moment to reflect on my changed hair color, I returned to the task on hand. "There are other security measures I wish to put in place. They are detailed in the packet as well."

"A student wand registry?" Filius squeaked.

"There are area enchantments that can be put in place to alert staff if an unregistered wand is used. It's unobtrusive. I have it on my own wand, linking my wand to a register within the Hit Wizard Office in case of intruders, and I've never run afoul even with delicate magics," I explained.

"What's this about house-elves?"

"In the event of an intruder within the castle, the protocol is for all students to congregate in the Great Hall with the prefects as guards. Prefects are just students, however, and no matter how responsible they cannot be expected to be able to fend off a capable attacker. House elves possess magic unlike humans, though. They are able to become invisible, apparate in and out of warded areas, and incapacitate fully grown witches or wizards in dire circumstances. I suggest keeping the prefects within the Great Hall as well with house elves patrolling the corridors around the Great Hall in small groups. That way, if a group encounters the attacker, one house elf can go and fetch the staff."

"What is a homo-sphere?" Dumbledore asked curiously. I grimaced at that one.

"It would work in tandem with the wand registry. Normally, it would provide a sort of three-dimensional model of a building or structure with indicators of each life form. I'm not certain how it would behave with Hogwarts, however, due to the ever-changing nature of the castle. I would need to have a very deep knowledge of the castle in order to make it any sort of accurate. Even then, it's an incredibly complex bit of charmwork. I've only successfully managed it four times and, well, I created it."

"The precision of construction in such a charm..." Filius seemed so excited he might fall off of his chair. "You must discuss it with me, sometime. I'd be fascinated- honored- to even become familiar with the theory behind such a piece of work."

"It'd be my pleasure. Charms and natural magics were my specializations as a Hit Wizard. I'd love to swap stories sometime," I said earnestly to the small wizard.

"You would need very thorough knowledge indeed... Perhaps, Minerva, you could introduce her to the Weasley twins once term starts. I imagine they know this castle better than most of us in this room," Dumbledore chuckled.

"Fred and George Weasley are the ones you'll have to look out for," Aurora said to me with a laugh. "They're the biggest troublemakers in the school."

"And in my House," Minerva lamented quietly. "The points I've lost because of those two... And they'll only be in their third year this year. I'll have them for another four years."

"That sounds like another four years they'll hand me the Cup." Severus, perhaps being more animated than I'd ever seen him, actually grinned. It was a snide grin, yes, but he grinned.

Minerva grew red in the face and I knew that it was likely going to turn to a duel if no one intervened. I spoke up just as Minerva shifted her weight as if to stand.

"They sound like an interesting pair... But on the homo-sphere, I would only be attempting to make one, to be housed in the headmaster's office. To have more than one floating about would be a security liability."

There were a few more security points but I didn't want to argue the usefulness of age lines guarding the Forbidden Forest or debate the reasons why Slytherins should not be grouped with their main rival house in a potentially dangerous class such as potions at this point. Dumbledore knew where my rooms were located; he or the other professors were more than welcome to find me later.

"My biggest concern after security is the school's budget. Excluding what is being diverted to pay for my presence here, the school has a total budget of 282,545 galleons coming in. While that may seem like a lot, I've done the numbers and, due to normal expenses such as staff salaries, general upkeep, replenishing potion stores, and other fun things, only about 8,500 galleons remain to improve upon what the school already has or totally renovate. I don't know the last time Hogwarts has renovated a bathroom or bought new furniture for a common room, but I doubt it was too recent. Much of your budget, I've noticed, hasn't gone to the castle. It's gone to food."

"What are you suggesting? The students need to eat," Severus said a little more scathingly than needed. I regarded him coolly.

"Page six, please."

"Farms?" I ignored how much disdain was dripping from the Slytherin Head of House. I'd only known Severus Snape for a short amount of time but it was more than enough for me to realize that he was not at all a pleasant man.

"Farms," I repeated. "If you'll bear with me, I can explain the whole idea. I found a school located in Oregon, Feyan Institute, that is very similar to Hogwarts in terms of student population and location. There, in fifth grade, when the students are about ten years of age, they are given an introductory course in gardening and basic farming so that, if they like, they can apply to jobs within the school at the school's greenhouses. There are four greenhouses on Feyan's grounds dedicated solely to food which are staffed by students and overseen by Squibs and recent graduates of other nearby schools. These four greenhouses provide all the fruit and vegetable produce consumed at Feyan with the odd exception of much more exotic foods."

"The students work the greenhouses?" Pomona asked curiously. I nodded.

"As the students are all exposed to the basics before hand, they can take a two week refresher course at any point in the year prior to working at the greenhouses. They are given a work schedule that is flexible enough to safely avoid clashing with any classes, sports, or other clubs and receive an hourly wage calculated based on their experience and quality of work."

"And I assume that their wages are taken from the original expenses for food?"

"Generally. There are a few classes that require a certain amount of hours spent in the greenhouse as a worker for part of the grade, though."

"Where would the funds for building the greenhouses come from? The initial start-up cost can't be negligible. Four additional greenhouses would require space to be cleared and the parts for the structures themselves are exactly cheap," Pomona frowned.

"Once again, it will be absorbed by the mission fee. It also must be said that a business could gain a lot of positive press by at least lessening the building cost for Hogwarts, seeing as it's one of the oldest, best known, and most popular magical schools in the country. I've been looking around and I've found a company that is willing to nurture the project through construction. In addition, my colleague is providing warding stones to repel pests. With the headmaster's permission, work can begin as soon as the first of August, with construction ending weeks before the students arrive."

"That doesn't settle where they'll be placed; unfortunately, the space near our pre-existing greenhouses simply doesn't have the room for any more. They weren't built with the intent to have more some day."

"That would be on the next page." Another shuffling of papers. Minerva looked up at me with an appreciative look in her eyes.

"I can see why you were sent." She briefly flipped through the next few pages. "Very thorough."

"Thank you," I beamed. "Anyway, as Irma can attest to, I spent a lot of time looking over maps of the grounds and checking out the area and I've narrowed it down that there is definitely ample space for all four greenhouses. It'll be a bit of a walk for the students, but definitely manageable." Finished, I looked to the headmaster questioningly. He, in turn, looked to his staff.

"Is there anyone against this course of action?" Everyone was silent, though Severus had a bit of a sour look that only served to convince me that that was his resting face. "Wonderful! Next?"

"Well, for the first two or three years, I would personally recommend bringing in an expert on farming. If I can't find one here, one of my good friends went down a more agricultural path during secondary. I'm sure I could convince him to come here and teach about crop charming and animal enchanting if the school were to look to expand into that side of farming."

"Crop charming?" Filius asked, smiling. I shrugged.

"I didn't name the course. From what Keith told me, the class was about how to control an interior environment to match a plants need, adapting the soil to different plants, creating artificial sunlight, and making runic arrays to improve plant growth and fertility. I'm afraid I stopped at Botany."

"I'd never thought of using runes in such a way," Bathsheba hummed. "I wonder..."

"Next on budget, there is the uncomfortable matter of teacher salaries. I won't call for a vote or anything on this, but my idea for staff salaries are within the packet. If anyone has objections, they can approach me after. My main goal is freeing up funds for other uses but, with the greenhouses, being put into place, I have fewer issues with the salary system as it stands. However, I have to ask about Cuthbert Binns. The man has, not to be indelicate, been dead for decades. Data from the Wizarding Examining Authority reports that History of Magic grades have deteriorated greatly since his death. I'm also concerned that he is disconnected with the current political climate, especially since so much as happened within the past fifty years, with Great Britain being involved in two large-scale wars. Students must be educated on the past if they are to learn from it."

"I've been saying that for years," Minerva said, looking almost sharply at the headmaster.

"Perhaps, if he still has such an interest in teaching, you could recommend starting an extra-curricular study group for interested students?" I suggested. Dumbledore nodded slowly, considering it. "Either way, it's likely too late to find someone for at least the first term. I would suggest beginning to look, though. Perhaps having someone new start after the winter holidays would suffice."

"My son-in-law studied history," Minerva commented. "Perhaps he knows someone who will be interested. Who knows, he might want to look into the possibility."

"Euan?" Dumbledore questioned. When Minerva nodded, the headmaster hummed thoughtfully. "Yes, I suppose it is time... If you would have him contact me, I'd be happy to consider it."

"I'll tell him as soon as I can." Minerva smiled warmly, clearly liking the possibility of having family so close. That finished, Dumbledore looked back to me. Taking the hint, I carried on.

"Now, from the schedules I had Minerva show me and from my understanding of your system, the second years have one fewer class relative to the other years seeing as first years take flying lessons and third years and up have elective options. What if the schedules were organized so that the students shift between the elective classes taking a different course for the first five months of school and then pick one for the remainder of the year? That way, when it comes time for them to chose their third year elective, they already have a grasp on the class's structure and how taking each course would affect their careers."

"It's worth considering... Would you like me to see if the electives can be arranged to accommodate the second years' classes?" Minerva asked, looking towards Dumbledore.

"If it can be easily done, we'll consider it but we can't ignore the increased workload that will make for the elective professors."

"I'm sure we'll be fine," Bathsheba shrugged. "What's one more grade?"

"Which brings me to my next point: I want every student to be tested for Sight. It's not a difficult process and it's one that's mandatory in the States," I informed the assembled professors, looking directly at Sybil. "Sight is a gift, but not one many people have."

"It's good that someone appreciates that," the Divination professor sniffed, looking none-too-subtly towards Minerva. I nodded in acknowledgement before continuing.

"My point is that, when I was seven years old, I was tested for Sight. I was told that I have a forty-two percent chance of tapping into my Inner Eye. Due to my low score, Divination was an option for me to take but not one heavily encouraged. If one doesn't possess Sight, Divination is not a class they should take. I think that students should be tested and, if they have a seventy percent chance or higher, then they should encouraged to take the course. If between forty and sixty-nine, the course should be allowed. Any lower than that, though, and the class shouldn't be an option."

"It is true that those without Sight have deemed it appropriate to participate in my lessons," Sybil noted absently. "It is sad, sad indeed, to watch the Sightless stumble along, blind to their surroundings..."

"How is the testing done?" Dumbledore asked curiously.

"The MACUSA has a select group of Seers that charm paper for it. The paper itself is a trade secret but it's made largely of different herbs and flowers meant to bring out the Inner Eye. The student in question would write their name and something about them that they knew to be true and, when they were finished, the papers would be burned in front of the class. The smoke would turn from dark grey to violet and shape itself into a number representing the likelihood of Sight."

"Something they knew to be true? What does that mean?"

"It depends. From what I understand, it is what activates the charm on the paper and acts as an anchor to the student after it's out of their hands."

"That sounds easy enough... But how would we be able to get the paper?"

"I've got contacts. So long as the handlers of the paper signed a secrecy scroll that they would not attempt to divulge the makeup of the paper, I'm sure I can get it rather easily. Those who have already started their electives will have to stick with their initial choices, but I believe we should start testing the second years once term begins."

"Anyone disagree?" Again, there was silence.

"Wonderful."

* * *

"Headmaster, can I speak to you for moment?" I asked once the meeting was finally over. It seemed that everyone had issues to bring up, snags to smooth out, or some small disaster. The meeting, which had started early in the morning, had carried well after lunch.

"Certainly," he said with a smile that was only slightly dimmed by the proceedings of the day.

"It'll only take ten minutes. I have some other points of interest I thought would be best shared with you directly. Chiefly, I wanted to discuss would be my own position here. I'm being paid to be here, and quite a ridiculous sum, so I'd like to volunteer my services in whatever capacity you deem fit. If you like, I can have a summary of my skills compiled and provided for you."

"I don't think that will be totally necessary. What would you like to do?" The question actually surprised me. I wasn't expecting freedom of choice, let alone being able to suggest those choices.

"I am qualified to offer lessons in a number of elective courses- botany, healing, natural magic, runic arithmancy. Alternatively, I can act as assistant to anyone who wants another pair of hands and eyes. I've mentioned that charms and natural magic were my specialties, but I would be able to grade effectively for most of the classes offered here."

"Yes, you are more than qualified. But what do you want to do? I've found that people apply themselves best where they feel most comfortable or most needed."

The continued desire to know my thoughts surprised me for only a moment longer.

"I'd like to start a number of... clubs, if you will. There are classes offered in the United States that, for whatever reason, you can't provide here at Hogwarts but that are important to learn to cohabitate with the Muggle world. I don't doubt that that's largely because of the large pureblooded interest within the Ministry but I'm not here to fight politics. I'm here to make the lives of the students safer and easier."

"So what are these clubs that you'd suggest?"

"Botany, first. Potions is a tricky subject if you don't know how the ingredients interact with each other. Botany also appeals to students interest in Herbology, since the subjects are closely related... Domestic spells was a class that was a required one-year course to prepare students to moving out of their parents' homes and living alone. It was mostly garnered towards muggleborns who didn't have parents to teach them basic household spells but it was a useful way to strengthen the more domestic skills of all the students... Perhaps a dueling club for the older students."

"We've tried hosting dueling clubs in the past but, due to the latent inability to hold a Defense professor for more than one year, none have lasted very long," the headmaster admitted.

"That inability has led to a crippled defense curriculum, though. Students need to be able to defend themselves, especially because Europe has a startling tendency to create Dark Lords. Two major ones in the past fifty years doesn't bode very well, especially because, if the trend is to be continued, Great Britain is almost due for another war soon."


	4. Chapter 3

Workshops quickly became the bane of the professors' existence. At my insistence, nearly everyone had finally moved away from parchment and quills and adapted to the wonderful world of Muggle office supplies: loose leaf, pencils, staplers, markers, pens! No more would students have to worry about spilling an ink well on their nearly finished papers on moonstone or what-have-you. Professors no longer have to deal with rolls of loose parchment- no more 'twelve inches on this or that' business.

I was more than excited for the revolution.

As well as introducing Muggle technology, I also contacted a number of my previous teachers to get lists of required material for the classes they taught. Most of Hogwarts' books were either tragically old or heavily biased and I wanted the professors to know that there were alternative texts.

To my great happiness, Binns was, well, binned. Euan Haversham, Minerva's son-in-law, agreed to take the position and his lesson plans looked promising. Hopefully with a proper professor on board, History of Magic OWLs and NEWTs will be on the rise.

Progress was also being made on the greenhouses; they were to be completed two weeks into August and the first generation of produce would be planted before the students even arrived to get a jump on food production. I worked privately with Pomona and Rubeus Hagrid to determine how to handle the greenhouses. We had decided early on that Hagrid, given his experience as groundskeeper and his work with Pomona in tending the more vicious or delicate greenhouses, would head the project. He was a bit depressed when he learned that nothing he'd be handling would be especially dangerous, but he was still pleased at the show of faith.

Time at Hogwarts would move all too quickly as the summer drew to an end.

One rare occasion in which time seemed to still was the day I met the reason for my presence. Hagrid was tasked with taking Harry Potter around to get his school things and Dumbledore thought I might appreciate both the acquaintance of the child and a more thorough tour of the ever-busy street than what I had been afforded on my first and only visit through the winding street.

Accordingly, I found myself in the Leaky Cauldron nursing a butterbeer at the bar. After a few false alarms, I heard the door open and turned to see the familiar shape of Hagrid as he stepped into the bar. A little boy trailed in his shadow, all but clinging to Hagrid's side.

As Hagrid and the boy approached, Hagrid was given a very friendly greeting by the bar's inhabitants, all of which seemed to know him closely. Even Tom, the old bartender, reached for a large glass as he came closer.

"The usual, Hagrid?" Tom offered. Hagrid shook his head, his mane flying about behind him before settling down.

"Can't, Tom, I'm on Hogwarts' business," Hagrid explained casually, clapping a massive hand on the small boy's shoulders. I could see the small boy all but buckle under Hagrid's hand but the half-giant didn't seem to notice. Tom's eyes widened.

"Good Lord- Is this- It can't be," Tom breathed, his eyes wide as he examined the boy. Curious, I examined him further. At a glance, the boy wasn't anything very spectacular. His clothes were more than a little big for him, making him seem even skinnier than he was. His dark hair was messy over his eyes and his round glasses had little smudges of dirt obscuring them, almost dimming the vivid green of his eyes. If I hadn't known better, I would have taken him for a normal child.

"Welcome back, Mr. Potter, welcome back," Tom greeted, skirting around the bar with surprising agility so that he could firmly shake Harry Potter's hand. At Tom's greeting, everyone in the tavern seemed to get up, eager to get at the Boy Who Lived. Seeing his discomfort, I frowned as Harry tried to hold his own against the surging crowd.

"Hagrid," I called over the noise. The Keeper turned his head, his eyes finding me quickly. He smiled brightly.

"Ah, Lore! There yeh are!" He put his hand back on Harry's shoulder and began guiding the boy out of the crowd. "Really must get on. Lots to buy an' such. Come on, Harry."

I followed the two into the walled courtyard where Hagrid grinned at Harry.

"Told yeh, didn't I? Told yeh you was famous. An' there's one more person here to meet yeh," Hagrid said, holding his hand out towards me. I smiled at Harry, holding out my hand.

"Don't worry, Mr. Potter. I won't be asking for your autograph anytime soon. My name is Lore Bingley. I'm the new head of security for Hogwarts." That was my official title, anyway.

"Head of security? For a school?"

"Great Britain's had its share of violence in the past few decades. I'm just there to make sure the students stay safe."

"Lore's already changing things 'round the school. Fer the better, mind yeh," Hagrid said a little quickly as he pulled out his umbrella. "Now which brick was it... Three up... two across?"

"Changing things?" Harry asked curiously. I nodded with a wry smile.

"I dabble."

The stones in front of us moved as Hagrid pulled his umbrella away from the wall. Out of a small whole grew a large archway that we stepped through.

I flanked Harry as Hagrid parted the crowd ahead of us, making sure that the boy didn't fall behind or fall prey to over-curious eyes. As we walked from the Leaky Cauldron's entrance to Gringotts, Harry shifted between staring at the surrounding shops and people with amazement and pelting Hagrid and I with questions about Hogwarts.

When we finally reached Gringotts, Hagrid and I exchanged a weighted glance. At this point, we would part temporarily. I would go with Harry to his vault and Hagrid would go to pick up the Philosopher's Stone and we would meet up later at Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour but, until then, we'd separate.

I wasn't too happy that Hogwarts was housing the Stone but I'd be damned if I didn't oversee its protection. I ensured that the door, and the corridor leading to it, were very well warded so that no students could get pass. I couldn't sway Dumbledore on the Cerberus but he did agree to switch the trials so that Filius' defense was first, then Pomona's, and then Hagrid's. If anyone was to be eaten by a three-headed dog, they at least deserved it at that point.

"Right well, Harry, we're gonna part for a bit," Hagrid said with a decisive nod, jarring me out of my thoughts. "Lore's gonna take yeh down to yer vault and to get yer robes for school."

"Okay... But where are you going?"

"Hagrid's got some errands to run before term begins," I answered quickly, sending a sharp glance towards Hagrid. The half giant had swelled with pride before deflating rather quickly.

"Er, yeah. So yeh've got his key, Lore?"

"Still here," I said, fishing it out of the small messenger bag I'd taken to carrying around. The small golden key glinted in the light.

"Good. Well, I'll be seeing yeh later, Harry," Hagrid said with a smile before disappearing off. He'd wait until Harry and I were in the tunnels before heading in himself to go to whatever vault Dumbledore had ordered. When he was out of sight, I guided Harry to the row of teller-like desks.

"Good morning," I greeted a free goblin. Trying to remember what I was taught in Gobbledegook on goblin culture, I shifted slightly to bare my neck to the goblin. The goblin nodded, a small smile twisted by his feral features into something a little more menacing, at the gesture of trust. "I'm to escort Mr. Harry Potter to his vault."

"Do you have his key?"

"I do," I complied, offering it out to him. He took the key, studying it closely. "I shall also like to see my own vault. I understand that my funds have been transferred from the New York branch of Gringotts?"

"Were you given a receipt of transfer from the New York office?" he asked. I nodded, pulling the small gold card stamped with the Gringotts seal from my bag and passing it to him. He studied it as carefully as he studied Harry's key before looking up to me.

"Everything seems to be in order. Griphook, please escort Mr. Potter and Miss Bingley to their vaults."

"Yes, sir." Griphook acknowledged before turning to Harry and I. "Follow me, please."

Harry and I trotted along obediently, staying close to the goblin's side as he led us to a door that opened to a narrow, roughly hewn passageway that bore metal tracks inlaid into the floor.

Griphook whistled sharply and, after just a moment's delay, a small cart came rushing out of the darkness towards us on the track. We all got in and, the moment Griphook touched the side with his long fingers, we were off at breakneck speed taking sharp turns and forks through the underground maze that was Gringotts' inner levels.

I wasn't overly surprised at the complexity of the underground maze since there was a Gringotts branch under the major cities in the States but it was interesting to compare. Each branch was different, having been dug into different terrains. A big difference, as I caught a glimpse of what must have been dragonfire, was the security measures.

We went deeper and deeper, passing an eerily glowing underground lake.

"I never know," Harry shouted over the rush of the wind. "What's the difference between stalactites and stalagmites?"

"Stalactites hold on tight to the ceiling and stalagmites might reach the top of the cavern one day," I replied as loudly as I could, trying to be heard.

Eventually we slowed to a stop in front of a small door standing sheltered in front of a small platform. The three of us climbed out of the cart, Harry's knees shaking ever so slightly from the fast journey down, and Griphook opened the door to the vault with the small golden key.

From within the opened door came a great billowing cloud of green smoke- possibly another security measure, I noted- that cleared to reveal a small fortune. Harry gasped at the mounds of gold, silver, and bronze, but I frowned thoughtfully and turned to Griphook.

"Is this Mr. Potter's vault or a trust vault?" I asked curiously. The goblin glanced to Harry as the boy almost stumbled towards his vault.

"A trust vault for the duration of his Hogwarts years," the goblin answered. "The main vault should become available for his use when he comes of age depending on how the wills of his parents were written."

"The main vault?" Harry asked, turning to us with wide eyes. It occurred to me that he might not have seen so much money in his life.

"Yes, Harry. Your father was a from a very old family and, as such, had inherited quite a fortune. As this is a trust vault, it should be refilled to a certain amount at the beginning of each summer. The main vault would have any family treasures, articles salvaged from your home, deeds to any properties the family owned, and the like."

Harry was speechless and I chuckled lightly. I walked up to him and grabbed his hand, guiding him to the vault.

"Come on, kid. Look alive. We've got a lot of stuff left to do," I said, passing him a spare coin purse I'd picked up for the boy. "That'll separate the coins for you. The inside will expand and shrink depending on how much money you put in there but there's a weak featherlight charm on the outside so don't worry about being dragged down by the weight of it. Do you know the money system?"

"Only the Muggle one," Harry said, shaking his head as I scooped up a handful of coins.

"The gold ones," I said, holding up an example, "are called galleons. They're the biggest valued coin, probably a little less than five pounds for one galleon. Next are sickles." I picked up a silver coin. "There are seventeen sickles in one galleon, about 29 pence each. Then there's the knut at one pence. The system's a little strange at first but you'll get the hang of it."

Once Harry was set for the next year or so, we rejoined Griphook in the cart and sped off. My vault wasn't as low into the caves as Harry as mine didn't require so high security and I wasn't a member of an old family.

My trip was a quick one. The majority of my funds were still located in New York, as I wasn't certain if I would stay in Great Britain once my assignment was over or not, but I had more than enough money here to live comfortably. I swept a few larges handfuls of galleons into my own coin purse, followed by handfuls of sickles and a scoop of knuts.

Soon enough, we were blinking in the sunlight after the fire lit tunnels. I had to regain my bearings for a moment before pointing down the road to the store Hagrid had suggested.

Madam Malkin's was cozy, for lack of a better word. Even though the store's large windows showed the bustle of activity on Diagon Alley's main street, the shop itself was decorated with plush and half-worn furniture. Warm wood furniture and accents were mostly obscured by vibrant and patterned cloths while rows and rows of unused material were stacked along the walls in neat orderly rows. Mannequins displayed some of the current fashions from basic everyday wear to elaborate dress robes. A fireplace was nestled between rolls of velvet but, in the August heat, the crackling fire was unnecessary and seemed to have a sort of cooling charm on it.

A witch in mauve robes came from the back of the shop, taming flyaway bits of greying hair as she approached.

"Hogwarts, dear?" she asked first, smiled briefly at Harry. "Got the lot here- another young man being fitted up right now, in fact."

I glanced into the back of the store once more and, true enough, I saw a blond boy being fitted for robes by a second witch. Madam Malkin, the witch in mauve, ordered Harry onto a stool next to the boy, allowing for me to observe as the woman slipped a long robe over Harry's head before beginning to measure it to the proper dimensions for his slight frame.

"Hello," the pale boy greeted. "Hogwarts too?"

"Yes," Harry responded. The other boy's eyes darted briefly in my direction and I smiled brightly.

"So would this be your first year at Hogwarts?" I asked the boy. He nodded firmly.

"Yes... My father's next door getting my books and my mother's up the street looking at wands," he drawled, his voice dripping with boredom. "I think I'll have to drag them off to look at racing brooms. I don't see why first years can't have their own. I may have to bully Father into getting me one and I'll smuggle it in somehow."

I raised an eyebrow incredulously at the boy's plan as Harry shot me a similar look.

"Well, I wish you luck, especially since you just warned a Hogwarts staff member of your plan," I said with as straight a face as I could manage. The blond boy's face turned a curious shade of white-green and he swallowed uncomfortably, shifting on the stool.

"So who're you, then?"

"When introducing oneself, it is best to provide your own name first. Didn't your parents teach you that?" I asked, amused at the boy's antics. He seemed to take offense but was unable to think of a retort so, instead, gave his name.

"I'm Draco Malfoy," he said as if the name should impress me. I was a little impressed to be honest. I was impressed that such an old family that was perhaps infamous for its powerful and potentially Dark wizards had produced such a brat. "Who're you?"

"I am Operative Bingly of the American Hit Wizard Office. I was just installed as Hogwarts' new head of security. You can ask your father about me if you like; I've had the pleasure of meeting him at a number of Board of Governors meetings," I said with a sharp smile.

"That's you done, my dear," the witch tending to Draco's robes announced, taking the robe off of him and allowing him to step down from the stool. Remembering his manners, he gave a stiff little nod to me before sending Harry a sideways glance and escaping from the shop. When he was out of sight, I was free to release the laugh I'd been holding in for so long. It wasn't even a quiet laugh or a chuckle. I was quite literally doubled over, holding my pained stomach, from laughing so hard.

"Who was that?" Harry asked, still staring at the door through which the pale boy had escaped.

"A future classmate of yours," I said, still chuckling. "He's the son of one of the oldest and richest families in Great Britain. He's likely not someone you'd want to make an enemy. His family is very well connected."

"So what should I do?" Harry asked, frowning thoughtfully.

"How should I know?" I said with a snort.


	5. Chapter 4

With Harry soon done with his robes and no sign of Hagrid, the two of us went on to the Apothecary and, while he explored every inch of the place, I arranged for his supplies to be prepared. When I had everything readied, I almost thought I would have to drag him from the shop. With a wry grin, I only needed one word to shake him out of his stupor and get him outside again: _wand_.

When talking to Hagrid about where I should take Harry for his school supplies if his task took him longer than expected, he was quite adamant there was just one place to go for a wand.

Standing outside the dusty window, I wasn't immediately impressed by the business. Upon stepping inside, however, I could _feel_ the magic in the air as my ley link, suppressed as it may be, shivered awake. My own core was desperate to taste the wealth of magic in the air but I kept a careful control on it.

The shelves all over the store were weighed down with wands- hundreds of them. The narrow boxes filled every available crevice of the room, piling all the way up to the ceiling. This wasn't the work of just one man; this was an inherited business. Ollivander must have been a master at his trade- it was more likely than not that his father or mother had taught him all he or she knew of the trade.

I felt a shift in the magic, alerting me to a new presence. That was all the warning I had when a new voice greeted Harry and I politely.

"Good afternoon." I turned to see an older man with bright, luminous eyes.

"Hello," Harry chimed, coughing a little as he tried to hide his embarrassment at the way he jumped.

"Hello," I said with a smile. The old man, Ollivander, crept closer to Harry.

"Ah, yes. Yes, yes... I thought I'd be seeing you soon. Harry Potter. You have your mother's eyes. It seems only yesterday she was in here herself, buying her first wand. Ten and a quarter inches long, swishy, made of willow. Nice for charm work. Your father, on the other hand, favored a mahogany wand. Eleven inches. Pliable. A little more power and excellent for transfiguration. Well, I say your father favored it- it's really the wand that chooses the wizard, of course."

Ollivander looked at me curiously.

"I don't believe I've sold you a wand."

"No. I bought my from Trent Hamilton in Via Wyrda."

"Ah, Hamilton," Ollivander echoed fondly. "Good at his craft, but he always insisted on using bizarre cores to more closely cater to individual clients. May I?" he asked carefully, holding his hand out to me. I hesitated for just a moment before withdrawing my wand and passing it to him. "Hm... Yes. I see. Thirteen and a quarter inches... Rowan. And... I don't know if I've seen a Re'em tail hair utilized as a wand core before. Extraordinary."

"I possess a ley link. The nature of the Re'em made it ideal for channelling natural magic. Once my link was discovered, this wand was commissioned for me."

"I see." Ollivander was apparently satisfied with my respond and gave my wand an experimental flick. " _Avis_."

A burst of small birds erupted from the end of my wand before shuddering into nothingness. After the show, he passed my wand back to me.

"A loyal wand... Mr. Potter!" Ollivander turned around quickly, suddenly quite close to Harry. He gently raised his hand and touched the famous scar with one long finger. "And that's where... I'm sorry to say I sold the wand that did it... Thirteen and a half inches. Yew. Powerful wand, very powerful, and in the wrong hands... well, if I'd known what that wand was going out into the world to do..."

Ollivander shook his head slowly but, quickly enough to give me whiplash, cheered up very suddenly.

"Well, now! Mr. Potter. Let me see... Which is your wand arm?"

Ollivander proceeded to take a variety of measurements- many of which didn't seem to relate much to wandlore at all- and give Harry a brief overview of what wands he would be trying out. When the measurements were done, the testing period began.

Harry took abnormally long to find his wand, and when he did... Well... I was glad that I wasn't on the receiving end of Ollivander's speech.

By the time we had purchased his wand- seven galleons- it was very nearly evening. After fifteen minutes of fruitless searching for Hagrid, however, I decided that it was more important to get Harry home in time for dinner than finding Hagrid.

"It's a good thing I've got your ticket for the Hogwarts Express," I murmured, shifting through my purse to verify that it was still there. Minerva had thought it a good idea, just in case Hagrid was sidetracked by something on his way back to us. "You live in Surrey, right?"

"Little Whinging," Harry confirmed with a nod.

"Would it be too much for your family if we... teleported into their home?" I asked, just in case. Muggles wouldn't be used to people Apparating in and out of the house; it might startle them. When Harry paled dramatically, I was glad I had asked.

"Definitely too much. They- They're not keen on magic," he admitted.

"Oh, I see. Well, then. Is there a park or something near your house that would be deserted at this time?"

Harry thought for just a moment before nodding. I smiled.

"Do I have your permission to see the image of the park in your mind? All you have to do is concentrate very hard on the memory of the park. I won't look at anything else, I promise."

"You can read my mind?" Harry asked, surprised. I shrugged.

"It's not a common skill to have but there are wizards who can... not exactly read your mind but skim your surface thoughts, feelings."

"Okay..." Harry furrowed his brow, thinking very hard, and I raised my wand.

"Legimens." I was as gentle as I possibly could be, staying in his mind only long enough to get a solid picture of the park. I could see why it would be deserted; the memory was dreary and dilapidated. I released the spell and Harry allowed his face to relax. "Now hold onto my arm very tightly and don't let go."

When I was convinced that Harry was secure, I spun on the spot, forcing the park to the forefront of my mind. When we had arrived, Harry dropped to his hands and knees, gasping and coughing for air.

"Sorry about that. It's called Apparation. The first time is always the roughest," I said consolingly, patting him on the back gently. When he had recovered, I glanced around. Like in his memory, the park was very run down and very empty. Even the grass seemed devoid of life. "You said your family wasn't keen on magic, right?"

"Right," Harry agreed, uncertain of where I was going with this train of conversation.

"Did Hagrid explain to them what is going to happen when you start Hogwarts?"

"Er- Should he have?" Harry asked. I smiled wryly, having assumed as much.

"No worries. He's a nice bloke but a tad forgetful. He's also been rather busy getting ready for the new year. I'll walk you to your house and talk to your folks."

"You really shouldn't," Harry said suddenly. I raised an eyebrow and he reddened. "They really don't like magic."

"All the more reason I should talk to them. Come along, then."

As we strode towards the houses, Harry's expression never wavered from one more appropriate at a funeral than one for meeting his family.

* * *

I rang the doorbell and waited with Harry just behind me. When the door opened, a woman with a narrow face and squinty eyes was appraising me.

"Yes?" she asked brusquely. I would have been offended but I forced myself to remember that I likely interrupted her dinner.

"Hello, Mrs. Dursley. I'm sorry to bother you. My name is Lorelei Bingley. I'm afraid you might not like this, but I'm here representing Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. May we have this discussion inside?"

Petunia paled with each word and, at the very word Hogwarts, her eyes darted back and forth warily in search of her neighbors.

"Yes, yes, come in. Quickly," she ordered, all but slamming the door shut as soon as Harry and I were inside. "Now what's this about?"

"Harry, go put your things away. Your aunt and I will be talking," I told him, nodding towards the stairs. Harry hesitated at the cupboard beneath the stairs, looking to Petunia.

"Go upstairs," she said with a sharp nod. When he was gone, she looked at me. "What's this about?"

"Shouldn't your husband join us? He'll need to be informed on Harry's current state within the wizarding world."

"None of us need to be informed," Petunia said firmly. I raised an eyebrow.

"Mrs. Dursley, your nephew is going to be attending a premier school. Surely you would want to know _something_ about it."

"My sister went to that freak school. I know _plenty_ ," she said scathingly. "Now, I will have to ask you to leave."

"Not quite yet. Harry needs to be at King's Cross on September 1st so that he can catch the train to Hogwarts. Will you or your husband be able to drive him there?"

"Yes, yes," she said very quickly, moving towards the door as if to encourage me to leaving. I was appalled at her behavior. With a new plan in mind, I narrowed my eyes at her.

"Mrs. Dursley, I hope you do not misunderstand me. Harry and I shall be maintaining correspondence for the remainder of the summer and if I hear that you so much as look at him oddly, I will hear about it. I am normally a very patient person but this is a special case. Harry is the heir to the house of Potter and he is currently celebrated as the hero of the last wizarding war which claimed the lives of hundreds, your sister and brother-in-law included. I trust that you will be treating him kindly. If not... There are worse things than a pig's tail, I assure you of that."

Before Petunia could think up a scathing remark, I went to the stairs.

"Harry!" After a moment, his head peaked out from the landing. "I'll be sending you an owl with some information you'll need. I'll expect letters back, too."

"Okay," Harry said, glancing warily towards Petunia.

"You've got your books. Make sure you start reading them. Pay close attention to your Potions book in particular. The potions master is a piece of work," I warned him with a conspiratorial grin. This time, Harry grinned back and nodded. I smiled at him one last time before looking very pointedly at Petunia. "I'll know if my letters aren't getting through."

And with that, I Apparated back to Hogsmeade, unable to wipe the smile from my face.


	6. Chapter 5

The end of August was exhausting, truth be told.

The schedules had been arranged and rearranged until at last everyone was satisfied. Introducing farming to the students was difficult to place and, ultimately, the professors and I decided that it was best to push back elective classes and have second through seventh years take a mandatory two week crash course in agrarian studies. After the two weeks, third year students and above would be free to return to their elective courses. In the case of the second years, the course will become mandatory to ensure that the greenhouses have sufficient care though they will be free to continue or drop the class after their second year. The class, already named Agrarian Lore, was already finalized with the Ministry. Once it was filed properly, experts would be brought in to determine if it could be taken to an OWL level.

For the first years, Rolanda and I delayed starting them from Flying for a total of four weeks. While the other years were studying under Hagrid in the greenhouses, the first years would be with me so that they got a feel for the clubs. Mandatory for all first years, they would be obligated to go to what amounted to two club meetings for each club. After the first two week period, the first years would have to option to take Agrarian Lore or continue attending my clubs for credit. At the end of the four weeks, the first years would be off to Flying lessons though they would have the experience necessary to work with Hagrid in the greenhouses for money or to start earning credit towards Agrarian Lore and the comfort needed to continue attending my clubs.

The clubs that had been officially mandated were Domestic Spellwork, Botany, and, for third years and up, Dueling Arts. Dueling Arts or, as I'd taken to call it, the DA would meet twice a week.

The budget had been revised a number of times by both the headmaster and I. Along with the decreased money sent towards food, we took a look at how much the board of governors were being paid. For a board that normally only meets three times a year- just before each term and at the end of the school year- they were getting paid a substantial amount. For what amounts to six or seven hours of work at maximum, each governor was being paid a full thousand galleons while, in equivalent positions, the average wage was about thirty galleons an hour. By correcting the board's wages, we easily freed up over 9,000 galleons.

With the additional funds, more books and better resources were made available to the library, rarer ingredients were purchased for potions classes, and general improvements to the castle overall were planned. New Cleansweep Sevens were bought for the school, renovations of student and faculty living spaces were being planned, and the greenhouses were up and running smoothly. Through the Ministry, I found and negotiated with a very nice Squib that ran a supply depot who was very ecstatic for the increased business. Our deal would allow him to sell his product to the students through a mail-order system that would earn him a hefty profit while keeping prices low for students.

With so much activity, the first day of term snuck up on us all. Suddenly all of the professors scrambled for last minute plans, getting everything ready before the students arrived. I gave final reviews of the books that had been prepared for the clubs' use and went through the greenhouses with Hagrid, who had gotten an early start so as to have produce ready for use as soon as possible. For the first term, Hogwarts would still rely heavily on outside sources for food but, after that, it should be almost completely self-sustaining.

I had just finished getting ready for the feast- dressing in black slacks with a cream knit sweater, with my hair in a secure braid down my back- when I ran into the first years in the entrance hall.

"Miss Bingley!" I heard someone call. I glanced into the mess of students and saw Harry poking his head above the sea of black robes. He still looked tiny in his school robes, something I was less than pleased about. His letters had mentioned how his aunt and uncle had finally started giving him a normal diet for an eleven year old boy but it seemed that there was already some damage done. I would have to speak to Poppy about supplementing his diet with nutrition potions until the damage was repaired.

"Hey, kid," I greeted when Harry had finished pushing his way through the crowd towards me. He had a freckled redhead in tow and I nodded at the boy. "Good evening, Mr..."

"Weasley. Ron Weasley," he introduced. I grinned

"One of Arthur's boys, right? I met him at the Ministry. And I've heard plenty of stories from the professors about your brothers, Fred and George especially."

"I've been telling Ron all about the ceremony and everything," Harry said with an innocent smile. I turned my attention back to him.

"Excited to get sorted?"

"Of course!"

"Harry's been going on about you for hours, Miss Bingley," Ron confessed with a sideways grin at his new friend.

"Have not," Harry grumbled sheepishly. I chuckled, glancing up to Minerva. She was clearing her throat, about to call all first years to her.

"I've got to run; the sorting will be starting soon. I'll see you both inside, okay? It was great to meet you, Ron."

"Nice to meet you too!" he called back just as Minerva began gathering up the firsties.

After saying my goodbyes to Ron and Harry, I entered the Great Hall and made my way to the staff table. Accepting the proffered peppermint humbug from the headmaster, I took my seat and waited with the rest of the school for the first years to enter.

As someone who had never been to a sorting before, the ceremony was extremely interesting. It was obvious that the hat had been imbued with a lot of magical energy for the enchantment upon it to remain so strong after all these years. It's skills also seemed to be rooted in legilimency, granting it the ability to quickly and painlessly skim the mind of the first years and sort them accordingly.

I didn't really care who was sorted where- though I did note that Harry and his friend both got into Gryffindor- and the ceremony was soon over. Dumbledore got to his feet and the entire hall fell silent.

"Welcome!" he greeted. "Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts! Before we begin our banquet, I would like to say a few words. And here they are: Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak! Thank you!"

If I didn't know Dumbledore beforehand, I would have thought him mad. Even now, I was questioning his sanity just a bit. After working with him so closely, however, I knew that he was both mad and brilliant in his madness.

The feast was delicious and I knew exactly why the school spent so much money on food alone. The meal was exquisitely made and extremely excessive. It was a wonder the only students weren't obese. Then again, if they had to climb all over Hogwarts each day, they'd need the calories just to get through the day.

After the feast- through which I had a very entertaining chat about various students with the senior staff- Dumbledore rose to his feet once more and the hall quieted down.

"Ahem- just a few more words now that we are all fed and watered. I have a few start-of-term notices to give you. First years should note that the forest on the grounds is forbidden to all pupils. And a few of our older students would do well to remember that as well. In order to enforce that rule, and for your safety, Age Lines preventing anyone under the age of seventeen shall be routinely placed surrounding the forest after nightfall." I watched as Dumbledore not so subtly looked to the Gryffindor table where a pair of redheaded boys Pomona had informed me were Fred and George Weasley were sitting. The two looked aghast at the new precaution but I could see in their eyes that they were already trying to think up ways to get around the new restriction.

"I have also been asked by Mr. Filch, the caretaker, to remind you all that no magic should be used between classes in the corridors." No magic in the hallways? I could see the benefits of that if Slytherin and Gryffindor were so volatile.

"Quidditch trials will be held in the second week of the term. Anyone interested in playing for their house teams should contact Madame Hooch or their house team's captain.

"Hogwarts is doing things a little differently this year. In the interest of becoming self-sufficient, additional greenhouses have been built on the grounds to grow the delicious food we eat here. There will be work for anyone interested in earning credit in one of our newest courses, Agrarian Lore, or in earning some pocket money during the term. To kick start the greenhouses, all students second year and above will be taking a two week introductory course prior to the start of electives. For our third year students and above, your electives shall resume as normal after this two week period.

"We have two changes to our staff this year. In light of recent global events and in the interest of improvement, Hogwarts is welcoming Miss Bingley as our new head of security. If you have any questions on her position here, I'm sure she will be delighted to answer them. And, to manage the new greenhouses and teach Agrarian Lore, we welcome Professor Priestley.

"And, finally, I must tell you that this year, the third floor corridor on the right-hand side is out of bounds to everyone who does not wish to die a very painful death."

After listening to a rather painful round of the school song, everyone was dismissed and I was free to return to my office. Looking over the schedule that Minerva had been kind enough to draw up for me, I noted that, technically, I had no responsibilities tomorrow. My first real duty wouldn't be until Wednesday when I had the Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff first years for an hour and a half. I had already decided how to approach the clubs- Botany first, then Domestic Spellwork to give the first years as good a start as possible. Having Botany early would make sure they could stay afloat in potions and also give me a more classroom-esque setting in which to introduce students to muggle pens and paper. Washing dishes and darning socks was useful to learn but it could wait.

Glancing at the other schedules that I'd been provided with, I decided to venture down to the greenhouses to help Keith Priestley with the first few classes. He was the botanist that was recommended to me through the Hit Wizard office so I was sure he was qualified for the job, but I was still more than a little curious on his personal teaching methods.


End file.
